Jennie
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The elevator opens to a floor that is many degrees warmer than any other room in this house, especially the Hole. I'm eager to see her space as she ushers me into the foyer and then down a long hallway. When we reach a set of two, thick double doors, she punches in a code on the keypad and pushes inside.
One.
Nine.
Eight.
Two.
I don't think she means for me to see but I do and I file the number away in case I need it for future reference. We walk in and I gape in amazement. Her room is gorgeous. A roaring fireplace takes up most of the far wall across from her massive bed. Several floor to ceiling windows make up the wall that faces the lake. Her bed is covered in a thick, white down comforter and a chocolate-colored, fluffy chenille blanket sits folded at the end. The wood floors are dark and almost match the blanket perfectly. A large white furry rug sits in the middle of the floor between the foot of the bed and the fireplace. It looks soft and I wonder if it's made from real animal fur.
"This is beautiful," I tell her in a whisper.
Even though the room is warm, the windows make it seem colder and I shiver. She turns to look at me and frowns.
"Drop the towel. I want to show you something."
Without hesitation, I do as I'm told. She drops hers and I'm awarded a fine view of her ass. It's cute enough to bite. The thought has me giggling. She snatches the brown blanket from the bed and casts an amused smirk my way.
"Something funny, little girl?"
The woman has the weirdest moods but she is by far the most delectable specimen I have ever had the pleasure of being with. In the light of the fire, her body glows. She's every bit of a warring devil and angel, all wrapped up into one human.
I want to open her up.
To learn about what makes her the way she is.
I want to see more of her smiles. Hear her laugh. Be the object of her affection.
Yet, I also want to feel my hair tangled in her fist. I want her to fuck me and spank me. I want to see that precious vein on her forehead throb with rage.
Truth is, I like each new layer I peel from her. I was attracted to the smug bastard who conned me into signing her bullshit paper and whisked me off to America. I was attracted to the woman who made me feel like trash while I sucked her cock in her office. I was attracted to the woman who beat a man to death because he put his hands on me. I was attracted to the woman who intended to use me in the Hole yet ended up making sweet love to me in the hot tub.
And now . . .
The handsome god of a woman who watches me with a playful grin and shining blue eyes. This woman, I'm not only attracted to, but I'd probably do anything just to keep the smile on her face. The attraction for her goes deeper than the surface. Past the pleasure and pain she inflicts upon me. It's much more.
It's as though I'm connected to her.
Like I belong to her.
"You have a cute butt," I blurt out and then giggle. "I was just thinking you were hot and I was lucky." The last part causes her smile to fall and I immediately chastise myself for ruining the moment.
Her voice is gruff. "I have an ass. A fine ass. Cute butts are for babies and shit."
I'd normally laugh at her playful banter but her words are a sucker punch to the gut. My eyes clench shut and I drop to my knees.
Don't think about it.
Don't think about it.
My chest quakes with a sob I'll never let escape. I want these memories to go away. To leave me the fuck alone! The pills. I can sneak out of here and go downstairs to where I stashed them away in the cabinet. I'll get fucked up and this will all go away.
He'll go away.
The thought sours my belly. I don't realize that I'm lost in the abyss of my despair until the heat of her presence is in front of me and drags me out of the darkness. When I blink my eyes open to meet hers, they're deep blue and her brows are furrowed in concern. The naked angel of a woman cradles my cheeks as if I'm precious to her.
I've never been precious to anyone.
Another ache in my chest.
Her power and strength cloak me the moment she scoops me into her arms.
I belong here. Cuddled against her. Her whispering soft assurances into my hair. She strides over to where she dropped the blanket on the white rug. With me in her arms, she sits on the edge of the rug and slides me between her legs. I shiver and stretch my toes toward the fire.
"I'll keep you warm," she murmurs and then sets to wrapping the thick blanket around her shoulders to my front. As soon as she closes it shut in front of my chest, it poufs out and heat warms us.
A vent, under my thighs, just in front of the rug blows blissful warmth around us. In the face of the flames of hell, I'm in heaven. We sit for a long time and I try to pretend we lead a life where this was normal. A life where in less than six months, I wouldn't be leaving to go back to the fucking ghetto but instead spent my years with her.
Lalisa Manoban.
Sexy Santa Claus.
"Why are you a prostitute?" Her words are gruff but soft. So soft, I almost don't hear her. For a moment I wonder if I was even meant to hear them.
I sigh and push away thoughts of another life—a life where I wasn't a prostitute but a well-revered woman instead. It makes me sick and I shove the memories away.
"I needed the money." I bark out a laugh.
She tenses from behind me and I scold myself for not being more forthcoming. When she doesn't say anything, but I sense the brewing storm behind me, I finally speak up again.
"Everything was fine in London. I'd found a nice girl to room with, Wendy Dempsey, and she got me a job at the small shop she worked at selling hand drawn city maps and hand painted thimbles, teacups, trinkets and other knickknacks; a souvenir shop if you will. I worked the register and made decent wages."
I sigh, hoping to find the strength to talk about my past. Somewhere deep within, I find it and clutch on. "One day, we went to a club. I never went out but she'd begged me to. Some guy kept buying me drinks. He was nice I guess. I wasn't looking for anyone to hook up with since I'd just gotten out of a relationship but I enjoyed his company."
The darkness floods through me and I shiver despite the warm cocoon I'm in.
"But I think he put something in my drink because I woke up naked in a shitty flat with my knickers shoved in my mouth. Wendy was still out but was naked too in the bed beside me. That fucker took us and judging from the used condoms on the floor near me, he used us too."
I hear a growl and realize it's Lalisa. She's pissed.
"Then what?"
My stomach rumbles, still sour from earlier. "I woke her up. She was hysterical but I managed to get us both dressed and we left."
I wish that were the end of the story. But the nightmare was only beginning.
"Then, as we were leaving, the dickhead came home. I screamed at her to run and she did. Meanwhile, I distracted him. Hit him and kicked him—anything to get him to focus on me while she went to phone the police."
My heart aches in my chest. I'm still bitter about the next part.
"But Wendy didn't come back. The cops never showed up. This guy, Corgy he called himself, fucked me. Tied my arse up and had his way with me. I cried and screamed and begged for him to release me. Instead.."
The blanket falls away as Lisa strokes my hair away from my neck and kisses me there.
"He pulled out a needle and told me he was going to make my fucking day. I fought against him, even as the needle bit into my skin. But when he pushed the skag into my vein and the heat rushed in, I gave in. It took the pain—all the pain in my head and my heart—away from me. With it, I found bliss. Darkness. Emptiness. I loved the high."
Her hot breath tickles my flesh. "So then what? What happened to that stupid fuck?"
Tears well in my eyes. "I worshipped him. Did whatever the hell he wanted. Anything for my next hit. I never went back to my job or my flat. I never checked to see if my friend was okay. Nothing. All that mattered was Corgy and his skag."
She presses a soft kiss on my neck. "But something happened?"
I swallow and nod. "Something did happen. One day, he and a few of his friends thought it'd be funny to watch me beg for the drug I needed so badly. He tied me up like a fucking animal and slowly let me withdrawal from it. I begged and screamed and threatened. They laughed and tormented me. And when I thought I would die, they released me. Sent my naked arse out into the cold streets. I was like a rabid dog craving blood. I would have done anything for that shit. Anything."
A shudder wracks through me as I sob. I hated that time in my life. Each time I recall that wicked part of my past, I want to wipe it from my memory. Not only was I starving and freezing, but I was naked and vulnerable. I was a target.
"Then what?" Lisa's body is tense and despite not knowing her long, I know it's from rage. She can barely contain the hate that floods through her veins. I pray, this time, it's not pointed at me.
"A punter found me. Offered me a tenner for a blow-job. I climbed right into his car, uncaring that he could be a serial killer or something. In his car, I blew him. He must have had pity on me because he shoved his jacket in my face along with a tenner before he hauled arse far away from me. So, I took the cash, donned the jacket, and searched for someone to give me the hit I desperately craved. The rest's history from there, handsome." My voice takes on a sarcastic drawl and I try to swallow down the bitter pill of contempt for Corgy that sticks in my throat.
So many what-ifs.
London was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. A better life.
Instead, it was a direct ticket to hell.
She doesn't say anything but instead scoots back onto the rug. For a moment, I'm afraid she's disgusted with me. But then I remember, she chose me. She plucked me from the sad state I was in and she restored me.
Just like she promised.
But why?
That's the million dollar question.
There's more to it than her just getting her rocks off by fixing up a whore. I know there are more layers of her dark soul to be uncovered. I'm not afraid, I'm curious.
She guides me down and onto my back. Her dark hair hangs over her forehead as she settles herself between my legs. Our eyes meet and I prepare myself to let her enter me. I'm not turned on, still distraught from the bitter memories that still hang in the air, but I'm willing to do this with her.
I want to do this with her.
But she doesn't enter me. Instead, she scoots back and spreads me open. Her eyes skim over my bare pussy and hunger flashes over her features. I knew Lalisa would be a good lover the moment I laid eyes on her. But I never took her for a giving bed partner.
"Oh!" I gasp as soon as her heated breath tickles my center. Her thick, hot tongue licks me, almost unsure at first. But once she's tasted me, she becomes ravenous. Strong fingers dig into my thighs as she opens me wider. My pussy dampens for her and a craving deep in my core begins to throb. Her tongue is all over me, exploring and lapping up my essence. I easily grow wet with her expert mouth skills and wiggle under her grasp.
"More." My word is more like a needy whine but she understands the language. Her hand slips from my thigh and she pushes two fingers deep inside. When she curls them upwards and grazes my ever-allusive G-spot, I cry out in pleasure.
"Lalisa! Oh God!"
I don't have time to chide myself for using her name because her efforts become more intense. She sucks, bites, and runs crazy circles all over my clit to the point I lose my sanity. Who needs heroin when you have the best damn drug between your legs? With her fingers owning the pleasure button from within and her tongue mastering my poor little bundle of nerves between the lips of my pussy, I thrash from an explosive orgasm. Her name falls from my lips in a worshipful chant over and over again until I shudder one last time with a heavenly aftershock.
The ripples of paradise eventually subside and she sits up on her knees, staring down at me with a shit-eating grin on her glistening-from-my-juices face.
"You—I—ugh," I groan but my smile is immediate. "Now fill me with your cock."
Her face flashes with anger but I'm quickly learning that with Lisa, her anger is also determination. And it's sexy as hell.
"You're mine, Jennie," she says with a growl as she pushes her large cock into me. "Don't ever forget that."
She drops her body over mine and finds my mouth. Her kiss is possessive but sweet. As she thrusts into me, I allow myself the luxury of imagining a life with her. Lalisa, despite her issues, is nothing like her.
Could I have a life again?
One where I'm not some piece of trash to be used and abused by whoever thinks they have a God-given right to.
With Lisa rubbing against my sensitive clit with each pound into me, I grow closer and closer to another much craved orgasm. For so long I had sex without pleasure. For so long, it was a job and far from something I enjoyed. I only used it for a means to obtain my skag—so I could forget. For too long, I was swept up in a vicious cycle that I numbed myself into.
But now that I've been thawed . . .now that my heart has begun to beat again, the old me roars to life with her nails bared and a new desire to live. The old me from before mixes with the new one that's being made love to and together they squash the pathetic drug addict from before.
I want Lalisa Manoban.
"Jen," she grunts, her body shuddering with the need to come. She's waiting for me and I'm lost inside my head.
Cupping her cheeks, I find her blue eyes and stare at her. I hope to convey how much I need her—how much my soul depends on her connection. She's my savior—she pulled me from the wreckage that was my life. I'm not losing her without a fight.
I will fight for Lalisa Manoban.
Even if it means fighting against her to have her.
I'll make her mine.
"I'm yours, Lalisa."
She thrusts one thundering last time and it's enough to send me spiraling into a tailspin of ecstasy. I shriek, losing all inhibitions, and give in to the pleasures she cloaks me with, both mind and body.
Her body relaxes once her heat pours into me and she crushes me with her weight. I smile under her hot body and pray to whoever's listening that the rug we lie on doesn't get swept out from under us by the time we wake up tomorrow.
I'm not sure I can handle if she wakes up in one of her moods and suddenly seems indifferent toward me.
In fact, I know I won't handle that well at all.
Sad part is, I know it's coming.
In my life, nothing ever goes right for very long.
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Lisa
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I analyze the profit and loss statements on my computer until the sun rises and my belly growls for something to eat. I've fucked up. My mind spins off its axis each time I try to understand last night. When Kai put his hands on my toy, I went into a psychotic rage. I'd nearly killed the man and was then eager to fuck Bunny into submission.
But something happened.
Things changed.
And I soon found that I didn't want to hurt her last night. I wanted to pleasure and please her. I wanted to kiss and make love to her. I wanted her, Jennie, to sleep in my bed with me.
I've lost my fucking mind.
And that's why after she fell asleep, I carried her ass upstairs and deposited her into her bed. Then, I came to my office and have been trying to formulate a plan on how to fix this shit ever since.
"Ma'am," Dubois says from the doorway, "you're up early this morning. And if I may speak frankly here, you look like hell."
I raise an irritated brow at him but quickly drop it, offering him a thankful smile instead when he hands me a cup of steaming coffee. "How's Christine?"
"She's better this morning and is already flitting about the kitchen making breakfast despite her bandaged hand. She said she's making your favorite for dinner," he tells me as he sits in the chair across from my desk.
Sipping my coffee, I let my gaze fall on my right-hand man. His dark eyes are tired, probably matching my own, and I wonder what has him looking so ragged.
"Beef stew. Nothing like a little comfort food after a rough last couple of days," I tell him with a sigh.
He nods. "Ma'am.."
I hold his stare and wait for him to continue.
"I believe Kai is going to be a problem."
His words mimic the thought that's been swirling around in my head for a while now. "Yes, that's because he's a snake. Did you tell him he was fired?"
He shakes his head and stares out the window. "Well, he was pretty bad off when I deposited him in his hotel room. Irene and Jackson assured me they'd stay and look after him. They're both worried about their own jobs and don't seem to have any loyalty to him as far as I could determine. Jackson was going to inform him of his termination once he was awake and coherent. However, I think after he heals up and understands what he truly lost, he'll retaliate. He's always been a calculating one."
I sip my coffee and then nod. "So we get eyes on him. I'll put Jackson in as acting CEO until we figure out a better plan. Today I'll conference our investors to let them know of the company changes. Our confidential matters are locked down so even if Kai tried to do something to ruin me, the fucker wouldn't get the chance. Plus, if I find out he even tries anything, I'll ensure he has more than just a few scrapes and bruises next time."
The reminder of how he touched my toy enrages me but I swallow down the fury, remembering I need to cool my shit when it comes to Bunny. I'm too wrapped up in her and it's clouding my judgment.
"Ma'am," he says carefully. I know he's watching my behavior and analyzing it. It's what he does—he knows me better than anyone. "I believe the miss is going to be a problem too."
Liquid anger surges through my veins at his indication that my toy might be defective and I choke down the desire to lash out on him. Instead, I question him. "How's that?"
He takes a deep breath and then lets it out in a rush, along with his words. "She's messing with your head, ma'am. In the one week that you've known her, you've let her break rules, get under your skin, and you even nearly killed your CEO for her. She's dangerous to you and your company."
His bitter words aren't meant to hurt me but to protect me. Dubois always looks out for me and not just because I pay him to.
"Jesus," I groan. "You think I don't know this? But what do I do, D? I can't just send her back. You know that."
"Why not? Send her off with a hundred grand and wash your hands of her. Despite Bambam turning her into something beautiful, she's still dirty and wrong underneath. She doesn't deserve you. I can't watch her ruin what you've worked so hard to achieve."
He's right.
He's always fucking right.
But could I send her back?
What happens when the hundred grand runs out?
What happens when she hits a low moment and seeks out heroin?
What happens when stupid fuckers like Corgy hurt her?
"I can't do that. She's not ready. A week of sobriety isn't long enough. She'll be back to her old ways before the weekend," I tell him briskly.
He grumbles. "But ma'am—"
"She's not ready, D," I seethe, slamming my fist on the desk causing my coffee to slosh out. "They'll hurt her. He'll hurt her."
"Kai?"
"Yes, the Kais of the world. For some reason, Bunny attracts all of the fucking wolves."
"Like you, ma'am?"
I narrow my gaze at him. "I'm the biggest, baddest wolf of them all. And that's why she's safer with me. I know my limits. I can keep her from getting taken advantage of and make sure she stays off the drugs."
"She'll unravel you," he tries again but his fight is wavering.
"No, I'll keep my distance. I'll remember the rules."
He sighs. "How about this? I'll back off if you call Rosé. You haven't seen her in a while. I'm sure she'd love to hear about Bunny."
I glare at him and challenge his unmoving stare. He's serious—fucking serious. I'm not ready to talk to my sex therapist about this yet. I'd hoped to figure it out on my own but clearly that's not happening any time soon. She's been a friend of mine for two decades now. My father had taken me to her when I'd been dealing with my anger toward my mother. It wasn't until she left her practice and focused on sex therapy that we grew close—beyond a patient doctor relationship. Rosé was the one to suggest channeling my sadism in the form of willing masochists, or toys, as I like to call them. It wasn't all smooth in the beginning and it took quite a bit of guidance on her part. But eventually, she helped form a way for me to survive the mental anguish that plagues me. I'm annoyed he's even suggesting I already call in reinforcements.
Yet . . .
Bunny's feisty green eyes are forefront in my mind. Her plump lips calling me by my name as if it's no big deal. Me devouring her pussy like it was my very last meal. The vixen is tearing apart the very fabric of who I am.
Shit.
He's right.
I'm losing it.
"Fucking fine already. Call Rosé. I'll talk to her. But in the meantime, I want you to look up every goddamned Corgy in London. I want the losers—the drug dealers—the street punks."
He raises both brows but doesn't question my sudden need to chase this new rabbit trail.
"When you find them, I want a list. And I want their pictures."
The tall man is already standing, ready to tackle his assignment. "And then what, ma'am?"
"We find out which motherfucker hurt my Bunny," I tell him, no infliction of emotion in my voice, "and then we kill him."
The fat man in the red suit waves to people walking by and thanks them when they drop coins in his bucket. After they leave, he goes back to jingling his bell. I don't get it. He's big—probably from eating so much food—and he still asks people for money.
Why won't Mama ask those people for money?
My bones poke out and I know it's because I'm always hungry. We need the coins more than him.
"Mama," I tug at her jacket and point. "Who is that man?"
Today, she's not as sick as usual. She's promised me a special treat because it's Christmas. I still don't understand what Christmas is but I want a special treat. So I've been a good girl all morning while she worked.
She kneels down beside me and one of her bare knees rests on the cold ground. Mama doesn't wear many clothes and I wonder how come she isn't freezing like me.
"That," she says with a laugh that reminds me of the bell he's ringing, "is Santa Claus."
I scrunch my brows together and turn to look at her. Her blue eyes are as pretty as the sky today. When Mama isn't sick, she's funny and nice. I love her all the times but times like these are the best. "Who is Santa Claus?"
Her smile falls as if she suddenly remembers something and sadness makes tears roll out of her eyes, dragging black streaks along the way. "He's nobody, Lili. Just a fat fucking bastard."
I glare at the old man that smiles upon seeing me. I hate how happy he looks. Mama hates him for some reason and I do too.
"Let's go, baby. The shelter said they're doing their Christmas dinner at three. We'll be late if we don't hurry."
Trailing after her, I try not to look at the man. But I can't look away.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" he yells at me, waving a piece of candy to tease me. "What do you want for Christmas little girl?"
He makes me so mad. And when he gives Mama the look that the other men give her, I can't take it anymore. Breaking free from her, I run as hard as my little eight-year-old legs will carry me and I hit him right in his pee-pee.
"I hate you!" I tell him. I don't want to cry—I want to be the brave girl for Mama but I'm so mad at the stupid fat man.
His eyes are open wide with shock and he clutches himself where I hit him. "You're on the naughty list," he hisses out. "Bad girls don't get anything from Santa. They don't deserve toys."
I haul off to kick him again but Mama yanks my arm up and drags me away from him.
I don't want any toys from the fat man. If I want toys, I'll make them myself. Sometimes when Mama is working, I cut shapes out of cardboard from a little pocket knife I stole from one of the apartments we went to once. If there's no cardboard, I like to cut out little stars from Coca-Cola cans. I make my own toys from the trash—I turn them into something pretty. They may not be toys like he's used to giving to the good girls and boys, but they're my toys.
I'm still lost in my angry thoughts when something warm blasts around me. Jerking my head toward it, I smile to see the shelter we sometimes go to. Music, happy music, plays in the background. It makes me feel good again. Being mad at Santa is something of the past as we climb the steps.
Tonight is the best night of my whole life. The nice people at the shelter serve us hot, yummy foods and I even make friends with another little girl nearby. She's younger and I pretend she's my sister. When dinner is over, the adults gather the children around a big tree decorated with lights.
I like this tree.
It makes me happy.
"Everyone," an old lady yells. She's not mad. Not at all. I think she is crying with happy tears. "This year's donations were wonderful. There are enough gifts for all the children. God is good."
The group chatters around us. Mama strokes my hair like I do the stray cats I find and I lean in to her touch. I love my Mama.
"Here you go, little girl. I hope you get something special," the old lady says, handing me a wrapped gift.
It's painted with the same red and white candy the stupid Santa tried to give me. Mama seems so happy, so I don't spoil her mood by getting mad.
"Is this my surprise, Mama?"
She kisses the top of my head. "Yes, Lili. Open it up. Let's see what you got."
Carefully, I tear open the paper and pull the lid off the box. Inside is a package.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mama snarls. "I was promised a toy for my daughter. Not goddamned socks!"
I jump at her sudden outburst and turn to her. "Mama, I love these socks. They'll keep my feet warm." I tear open the plastic and am happy to find twelve single, white socks.
She looks embarrassed and strokes my dark hair from my face. "I wanted to give you a toy, baby."
I smile really big at her. "I make my own toys, silly," I tell her so she won't feel bad. "The socks are better. I like them."
She hugs me to her and I inhale the cigarette smell mixed with her perfume that sometimes gives me a headache. I love her smell. I want her to hold me always and never have to go to work.
"And what toy did Santa bring you, little girl?"
Mama and I both jerk away to stare up at the old lady. I glare at her. "Santa is a stupid, selfish fat man who teases kids with candy. My mama got me socks because she knows my feet get cold all the time. I don't need that mean man's toys. I can make my own."
"You never told me how the rest of the night went despite having heard this story several times," Rosé says, her pen tapping her full lip.
I pinch the top of my nose to run the memories away. It's like I can still smell her. The stench of her cigarette smoke on her clothes. And what I now understand is body odor. With the recitation of the memory comes the flood of sensations that remind me of my mother.
"She left me to play with the little girl. A few hours later, she came back. I'd just snuggled under the blanket with the girl and she was showing me the baby doll she got. Mama said she had to work and dragged me out of there. She was in such a hurry, I forgot to grab my socks."
Bitter tears well in my eyes and I shake my head to force the memory away. I'd been so upset and begged to go back. Mama slapped me and told me to shut up. She had important things to do. That night, she fucked that stupid Santa in his car while I sat on the curb watching his metal can of money. I ate every single one of his candy canes and when I realized I couldn't get the money out of the can, I pissed inside of it.
"It's not your fault, Lalisa."
Rosé's calm voice drags me to the present. Of course it isn't my fault. I was a naïve little brat who worshipped her unfit mother.
"Well, it's been real fun, Doc, but I have work to do. Thanks for making me feel worse than before."
She frowns. Rosé is pretty for her forty-something years of age. Long blonde hair tied into a sleek bun and donning a fitted suit. But she's not my type. Too put together. Too refined. Not trashy enough. I've never pushed for anything more than friendship and she's never had the balls to come on to me. Despite my being younger, she's always been attracted to me. It's obvious but neither of us act on it.
Ignoring me, she cuts to the chase. "Do you think your new 'guest' is causing you to think about your mother more? Is that why you favor her? You think you can really fix her this time?"
I slam my eyes closed and think about Bunny. When she all but inhaled that banana on the day I picked her up, I felt empathetic toward her hunger. When she shivered from being cold, I wanted to warm her. When Kai tried to hurt her, I wanted to protect her.
But Bunny doesn't remind me of my mother.
In fact, a toy named Kitten—one of the first toys I took on—reminded me the most of my mom. Despite being off all the drugs, Kitten still found ways to smuggle in cigarettes and hide them all over the house. That woman craved nicotine and no matter how much Bambam cleaned her up, she always reminded me of her. And with her, I was the harshest. With Kitten, I scarred her body and her mind. I enjoyed every fucking second. It wasn't about reforming her—it was about punishing her.
Bunny is different though.
Bunny reminds me of the cold, hungry, feisty little girl who hid in the closet all those years while Mama fucked her johns. Bunny reminds me of me.
And that changes everything.
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Jennie
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"No!"
Her scent is gone and I jerk up into a sitting position. I expect to see the fire cackling across from her bed—to see the view of Lake Sammamish beyond the windows. Instead, I see death. I see horror. I see hate.
I see purple.
I'm still naked so I scramble to the first place I get to in order to hide from it. The closet. But this time, it's filled from top to bottom. No wonder Bambam made friends with the sexy salesman—he paid his rent for the next six months just on commissions from all the clothes he bought.
Holy shit.
This closet with its color-coded garments and rows of expensive, gorgeous shoes remind me of my home back in Georgia. The memory is a sour one so I cling to the way I used to seek refuge in my large closet. How I'd get lost reading a book or sometimes taking a nap on the small sofa inside. For some reason, when I'd go in there, he would leave me alone. And I welcomed the peaceful sanctuary.
And then later, I'd sing in there.
I'd whisper unspoken promises.
A sharp pang of grief slices through me and I double over panting.
I blink several times and take deep breaths to keep the panic from overtaking me. This job should be easy but it's been by far the most complicated and difficult endeavor I've undertaken in the last six years.
The racks are all lined with luxurious garments and I'm angry that Bambam didn't buy me one single comfortable thing to wear. Everything is dresses and skirts. I don't want any of it. With a frustrated huff, I locate a pair of pretty panties—as if I have a choice in the matter—and matching bra. After taking a long, hot shower and braiding my wet hair down to one side, I find a plush robe on the hanger behind the door. I make quick work of brushing my teeth and forgo makeup altogether.
Thankfully, she didn't lock me in the purple hell. I pad barefoot quickly through the room and out into the lobby. As soon as my bare feet hit the marble, a shiver passes through me. I'm going to throw a shit fit until they buy me some comfortable clothes I can hang out in during the day.
The ride down is uneventful. I consider going back to her room and climbing into her bed but I know better. Lisa took me out of there for a reason. She's having second thoughts about the night before.
She thinks I'm a mistake.
As soon as the elevator doors open, the smell of bacon makes my stomach grumble. Having puked most of my dinner up last night, I'm starving. I try to push away thoughts of Kai. He wasn't necessarily rough but he was persistent. I'd been too fucked up to stop him.
And now he's dead.
A smile crosses over my lips until Dubois steps into my vision. "Where's Lalisa?"
His brows furrow together in frustration and I nearly laugh at him. But I need for him to take me seriously, so I swallow down my reaction at my effect on him. "Miss, she's in a meeting. Christine has breakfast ready and—"
Pushing past him, I make my way to Lisa's office with a bitching Dubois hot on my heels. I'm quicker than he is and shove my way into the office. I nearly cheer aloud when I find that today it isn't locked.
That is, until a stunning blonde inside turns to give me an interested stare. Her palm is resting on Lisa's shoulder and she nearly sickens me with her cloying sweet smile. My hackles rise upon seeing her.
"We need to talk," I blurt out, dragging my eyes from the woman to Lisa.
She seems surprised, almost pleased, to see me but her face becomes one of feigned disinterest after a few seconds. I don't miss her initial reaction and I won't let her get off that easy.
"I believe talking is a splendid idea," the woman agrees, her blood red painted nails curled over Lisa's shoulder like that of the claws of a vulture. "You must be Bunny."
"My name is Jennie."
"Lovely to meet you," she says in a warm tone that I don't fully trust.
She peers down at Lalisa with understanding written all over her face and pats Lisa's shoulder. I'm upset that I seem to be the problem here and she is her support.
"Jennie, I'm Roseanne Park, a friend of Ms. Manoban's. I'm a Certified Sex Addiction Therapist that specializes in BDSM."
Sex addiction. BDSM.
I frown at her words and flash Lisa a questioning look. She's watching my every move with interest, as if I'm the unusual one, and doesn't seem at all alarmed to speak so openly about such notions. Hours ago, she was inside of me. Her lips were all over me—tasting and worshipping me.
But now?
Now, she seems eager for this woman to tell her what to do.
"You know what? Forget it. I'll talk to her later. Alone." I start to leave the office when a thundering voice stops me in my tracks.
"Stop."
Her voice is deep and the authoritative current underneath causes me to take pause. I turn to look at her, expecting to see the look of want and happiness in her eyes from last night. Instead, her eyes flicker with anger and her mouth is drawn into a firm, unimpressed line. Much to my dismay, she's not upset with this woman—her anger is directed at me.
What did I do?
"Rosé here is going to help us. Clearly, I've struggled in my role," Lisa says in a gruff tone. "I'm a sadist and a dominant."
I swallow and glance over at this Rosé girl. She smiles and nods her head. Despite her easy manner, I don't like the fact that she's been brought into the middle of our relationship. Why do we have to have roles? Why can't we just be us?
"Then what am I? A whipping post?"
Rosé speaks up. "Jennie, honey, from what Lisa has explained to me, you're a masochist. What the two of you have is a budding sadomasochistic relationship, as well as, a dominant/submissive relationship. She likes giving pain and you like receiving it. It is in a sadist's nature to transform this pain into pleasure."
I frown but she continues.
"The relationship is extreme to say the least but that's what makes it so fulfilling for both parties involved. The dominant/submissive side, however, is about control."
"You do as I say. No questions asked," Lisa says with a grunt.
Rosé's lips quirk up into a smile. "Essentially, yes. But not because she has to, Lisa. Because she wants to. It's something each of you look to the other for."
"I don't like being controlled," I argue, but my voice falters.
"But you do like the pain she gives to you? So you think you're a masochist but not a submissive?"
Her desire to label me stresses me out. If I'd wanted help for my twisted head, I'd have sought out a therapist six years ago. "I don't know what I am," I admit.
"Jennie, I'd love to have a private session with you. To learn a little more about your sexual interests."
I cringe at having the sex doctor pick apart my pickled brain. "No thanks. I'm over this."
"Actually," Lisa barks, "you're not over this. Lest I remind you that you agreed to this—that you're being paid an exuberant amount to 'pretend' if you will."
"I don't know much about these labels you're trying to slap on me," I hiss out, my voice growing shriller with each word, "but I do know enough to know that some sort of safe word or some shit should at least be in play here. But I don't have that. I'm homeless and I've signed a contract saying I have to stay or reimburse a twenty-five percent restocking fee. So there's no 'choice' here for me."
Lisa voice is fire as she spits out her next words in anger. "I told you to read the damn contract. You don't listen for shit sometimes."
"I know for a fact that there's an out for you," Dr. Park says in a calm manner, "if that's what you wanted."
Lisa tears open her filing cabinet and shoves the contract in my face. This time, I scan it more carefully.
Safe word is pause. Mutual consent required by both parties at all times. Blah, blah, blah. A lot of fucking zeros.
I have the power to stop it any time I want to. Problem is, I need all those fucking zeros. My shoulders slouch in defeat.
Lisa flashes me a satisfied grin and takes the contract back, safely stowing it away in her filing cabinet. "Training begins today, Bunny."
I let out an irritated sigh. "And what might that be? Are you going to put a collar on my neck and make me eat lunch from a dog bowl?"
Our eyes are zeroed in on one another. Her nostrils flare with each breath she takes and her jaw clenches with a fury that she seems to be summoning from deep within. I'm overwhelmed by this "sex intervention" and want to cry. I even bite my cheek to keep it from happening. Where is the woman who held me last night?
"Dubois," Lisa calls out, her glare unmoving from my own. "Have Bambam dress my toy like the whore she is. I'm ready to impart her first lesson upon her."
The disgust in her voice nearly cripples me with shock. I knew she was a moody fucker but this is downright twisted.
But then I remember the whole goddamned scenario is twisted. I agreed to come "play" with this rich bastard for six months. She doesn't have a connection to me nor does she like me. She wants to use and abuse me. Just like the rest of them. A fire begins to burn in my chest and I desperately fuel the flames.
"You're an asshole, Lalisa," I hiss as Dubois grabs my arm. "Have fun playing doctor with the lady." I'm momentarily satisfied when the doctor flinches at my words, her smile giving way to a frown. She seems hurt by my words though, not annoyed, and I hate that I feel guilty about that.
"Dubois, stop." Lisa's voice is harsh and I startle.
A cold shiver crawls down my spine. I'd called her by her name all night but this morning, I can sense it is the very thing that's pissed her off.
"Bunny, come here."
I yank my arm from Dubois' grasp and storm toward Lalisa. Rosé has stepped away from her and sits on the window sill as if to watch with curiosity what Lisa'll do next. Lisa wants to scare me—the rage in her eyes tells me so. But I'm not scared. I'm just as angry. When I'm near her, she sits back and her eyes peruse up my body. With a quick tug, she releases the rope on my robe and it falls open for her, revealing my nearly naked body.
"Take it off."
My eyes flicker over to Dubois and I give Lisa a slight shake of my head. Her hands fist and I can tell she's barely containing her anger.
"You're a whore, Bunny. Or did you forget?" she sneers. "People see your body all the time. This isn't the first time my staff has seen a naked woman. Now, don't make me ask you a second time."
I drop the robe and glare back at her. Hunger flashes in her eyes at seeing my sexy bra and panties but she feigns disinterest again. Fucking liar.
"Dubois, get Bambam and Christine in here. Everyone needs to see this."
My brows furrow together in confusion and I silently question her but she doesn't respond. Her lazy stare inspects my features. She watches for cracks and fissures to see where to weaken me.
A shuffling behind me alerts me to the fact that everyone is here and for some reason, I feel ashamed. I made friends with Bambam and Christine but now they have to watch me—on her side. I'm the outcast here. The fucking loner.
"What have I told you that you were to call me?" she questions as she rises from the chair. Her body towers over mine and the heat that pulsates from her warms me to my core. I miss the sweet woman from last night—not the cruel bastard standing before me.
Ma'am or master.
I take a minute to study her features. To draw in the discomfort and tension of the room, thick with the charge of an impending storm. And then, unmoving, I raise only my eyes to meet hers. Our eyes lock, her intense gaze imploring me. Imploring me to obey and submit to her as I did last night. And if I'm not mistaken, way in the back of her depths, I see it. That undeniable sliver of fear. Fear that I will disrespect her and humiliate her, just as she is trying to humiliate me in front of her army of faithful servants. "Fuck you." I challenge her despite my trembling lip.
She flashes a light satisfied, sinister smile. "If you're a good little toy."
My mind attempts to veer off toward a safer path—to look anywhere besides into the malevolent eyes that remind me hauntingly of him. And yet, even now, when she's being a creepy bastard, the down-to-the-core, bone-chilling evil is missing. No matter what façade Lisa constructs, it will never compare to the depths of fear I've faced in my life. Lisa may get off on control and playing her sadistic role, but her heart is good. I've seen it and I'll be damned if I put her in the same category as the monster from my past.
Her fingers are soon digging into my jaw dragging my gaze to hers, tearing me from my mental comparison of her to the devil. "Bunny, what have I told you to call me?"
Ma'am or master.
Everything in me screams to just give her what she wants. To be the good little submissive she craves. Then, maybe, she'll leave me be. I can run upstairs to my closet and avoid her at all costs. But deep, down inside, I want to let her know I won't go down without a fight.
"Um," I say with an unsure Georgian drawl that makes Dubois suck in an audible rush of air. "I think you said you liked to be called Barbie Doll."
Christine curses at me under her breath and Bambam gasps dramatically.
The vein.
The adorable little vein that throbs out of control on her forehead is back.
I struck a nerve.
Before I can have a chance to start my victory dance, Lisa twists me in her arms and pushes me over her desk. My hand catches a coffee mug that careens to the floor and shatters. Christine starts for it and Lisa stops her. "Leave it!"
My body shivers when she drags my panties down over my ass and leaves them at my thighs. She begins undoing her belt and for a moment, I hope she fucks me right here over her desk. I'm not prude and would let her do it in front of her staff. I just want Lisa to acknowledge we had a connection last night. Fucking me on her desk would at least help her body remember how good we were together. That we weren't just two people playing roles.
But the second I hear the belt slide from the hoops on her pants, I start to squirm. Her hand mashes against my lower back to hold me in place. The belt lashes across my bare bottom and I scream. She hits me so hard that I don't know if I can endure multiple hits like last time.
Suddenly the lashes cease.
"Touch yourself."
Her command is confusing and I turn my head around to look at her. Stormy grey eyes are on mine. The hunger has intensified. She gets off on her dominant, sadistic behavior. On humiliating me.
"I'm not in the mood," I say with a grumble.
She grunts and swats me again, this time harder. I howl in pain and scramble to get away from her but she's too strong. "I said, touch yourself." Her order is harsh and unyielding. Deciding I don't want any more whippings, I slide a hand under me and touch my clit. I wasn't lying—I'm not in the fucking mood. But I'm not in the mood to get spanked either, so I do as I'm told.
The leather of her belt slides softly over my ass and it makes me try harder. If she wants me to come, then I'll come.
But I don't come.
I work myself for several minutes before I hit the desk with my fist. "I can't do it!"
Slap!
The belt bites into my sore flesh and I scream again. Angry tears sting my eyes but don't fall out.
"Make yourself come."
My fingers hurt and my legs begin to shake as I try to make myself orgasm. I've never been any good at self-pleasure so this feels like torture. Several more minutes pass. All that can be heard is the soft breathing of everyone but Lisa and I. We're both struggling; me trying to get off and her waiting for me to stop so she can spank me again.
"Lisa, I can't do it," I protest.
Wrong thing to say.
Slap! Slap!
This time, a tear rolls out. "I'm sorry, please stop," I choke out, "master."
My eyes find Christine and her cheeks are blazing red, her gaze affixed on her feet. Even Bambam is uncomfortable, his frown marring his perfect features.
"Christine," Lisa says, her words breathy, "take Dr. Park to the dining room and serve her some breakfast. Bams and D, hold her arms."
"Please!" I scream at anyone who'll listen. I'm not sure what I'm begging for but I don't want her to hurt me.
Dubois is the first to hold my arm down flat on the desk with Bambam not far behind him. Bambam's touch is softer, he even swipes his thumb across my sweaty flesh in a comforting move but he's just as strong as Dubois. I'm not going anywhere.
"You are to always refer to me as master or ma'am, toy. I want you to remember this the next time your mouth gets smart and you decide to call me Lalisa. I'm tired of your bullshit. I am paying you a lot of money to behave and do as you're told. Do you understand?"
I nod because I do understand. It doesn't mean I like it though. Closing my eyes, I brace myself for a beating like the one back in London. Instead, Lisa's warm finger teases my pussy from behind. I'm mad at her but she touches me better than I touch myself. Soon, my body responds to her hand and I'm shamelessly working my hips in unison with her assault on my clit. The orgasm is close. Fucking finally. My breaths quicken and the second I gasp, ready to leap over the edge and give into it, her hand is gone and fire licks my ass.
"Owww!" I cry out and squirm against my unmoving captors.
Lisa slips her hand back between my legs and begins her relentless teasing again. This time, I'm upset and don't want to come. I just want to go hide somewhere in this big house.
"Do you want to come, Bunny?"
I shake my head in vehemence. "Not anymore."
"Too fucking bad."
Despite my being angry, I can't think of anything else except for the way she teases me, so confidently and my pelvis aches for release. I'm trying hard not to show her I'm enjoying her touch but when my legs begin to quiver in anticipation, she stops and whips me again.
This goes on.
And on.
And fucking on.
After what seems like hours but can't be any more than thirty minutes or so, I'm sweating and crying. I've come so close to coming multiple times. I'm pissed off and needy. I can't think straight. My ass fucking hurts and I want to kill Lalisa.
"Do you want to come?" she whispers, her lips grazing the shell of my ear.
"Please," I beg.
"Please, what?"
"Ma'am."
Another whip. Another scream.
Her hands are back on me and I'm dizzy with the need to come. "You two, go."
My arms are freed and those two bolt from the room without a backward glance. I'm too weak to move.
"Bunny, I want you to sit on my desk and face the window. I'll be right back." Her voice is calm and I'm thankful for a moment to collect myself. She pats my butt, almost affectionately, and trots out of the room like an eager little girl. With a groan, I stand on shaking legs letting my panties fall to the ground and sit on the edge of the desk. The cold wood soothes my sore bottom and I sigh in relief.
Today, the sky is dark and ominous, kind of like the mood in this room. The lake ripples with raindrops and I can't help but shiver. I just want to go upstairs and curl up under a blanket. To ignore the way my body responded to her brutal yet teasing touches. To forget the way I felt turned on at having two men hold my arms while Lisa had her way with me.
"Do you want me to fuck you, beautiful?" The sweetness in her voice startles me and I cast a confused glance over my shoulder at her.
Her mouth is lifted on one side in an amused grin that causes another shiver to course through me, which has nothing to do with the cold weather outside. As much as I hated her a few minutes ago, there's no denying my attraction to her. I want her to finish the job she started.
"Yes, please."
She chuckles and sheds her jacket. I watch with interest as she rolls her sleeves up. Before she sits back down, she reaches into her pocket and retrieves something.
"You're going to fuck yourself," she tells me simply, "with this."
I gape at the object in horror. No longer than three inches long, the slender, pink vibrator mocks me from the palm of her hand. Once again, I'm just a player in one of her twisted little games.
"Don't act like you're offended. I would bet my entire bank account on the fact that you'll come like the good little whore you are." She smirks.
I curl my lip up in disgust. "You're sick."
Her eyebrows rise to her hairline. "You think I'm the sick one? Oh, baby, you have no idea how sick I am. But this isn't about me. This is about you. Despite your haughty attitude, you're not so different. I like hurting and degrading you. And you, my dear, love it when I do it to you. Don't you?"
I shake my head in vehemence.
She laughs but it is cruel and sinister. So why in the fuck am I becoming aroused again?
"You do," she assures me and hands me the vibrator. "Push the button on the top and play with your pretty pussy."
Another wave of pleasure courses through me at her words. I'm beginning to think I'm as fucked in the head as she is, exactly like she says. The cold rubber chills my hand and with reluctance, I turn it on. It vibrates—not too much and not too little. I flick my eyes over to her stormy grey ones that match the sky behind her perfectly and suck in a ragged breath. Chewing on my lip, I spread my legs open, resting my heels on the edge of the desk, and then lie back.
"Ohh," I gasp when the toy touches my sensitive clit.
I hear her release a breath. She stands back up and towers over me. "Fucking whore. Do you like touching yourself?" Her face contorts into a pissy scowl but I see the desire swimming in her eyes. And when she presses her hard cock through her pants between the cheeks of my bare ass, my vision blackens with lust.
"Please fuck me," I beg as I begin to grind my ass against her dick while I tease myself with the vibrator.
She growls but refuses to touch me. Instead, she leans forward and places her palms on the desk on either side of me, caging me in. "Always wants the goddamn dick like a filthy bitch in heat. I bet you'd suck off any motherfucker for a moment of bliss. You're nothing but a dirty skank."
I moan at her words and she grunts.
"See, Bunny, you're just like me. You love playing with toys."
Curls of pleasure bloom in my lower abdomen and I want to curse aloud. With every breath, another string of twisted words fall from her lips, and here I am getting off on it. I am just as messed up as she is. What the hell is wrong with me? Six years ago, I'd have thrown up at having been a participant in this game. Yet, now I'm squirming and craving more.
The vibrator brings me closer and closer to the ecstasy I need, with each wave of pleasure. She thrusts against me again and I cry out. It's too much—she's too damn much.
"I need more.." I trail off and flutter my eyes closed.
"Of course you do. You're depraved like me. Tell me what you want, toy. You want me inside of your tight cunt? You want me to fuck your used and abused pussy until you can't see straight?"
I whimper and nod. I'm afraid to open my mouth for fear of the sort of sick things I'll beg her to do to me. Heat creeps up my neck as my orgasm nears, but she yanks away from me and stands just out of reach.
"Stop, Bunny. Enough. I just wanted you to get the toy wet. Your pussy is dripping down the crack of your ass so you'll have no problems."
Tears of frustration trickle out of the corner of my eyes as I slip the vibrator from my clit and push it into myself. It's small, no bigger than one of her thumbs, so it doesn't really do much from the inside.
"Now give it to me," she demands.
My body quakes with an intensity that can no longer be contained. I'm on the cusp of something big. Right on the very edge and each time she rips me back. She's a bastard, yet I keep hoping she'll give me just the little push I need.
Once she has it in her hand, I relax until she pushes it into my ass. Being a prostitute that took it in the ass from time to time, I've never enjoyed any sort of pleasure from the act. It's degrading and not in a good way. My frightened mewls are silenced though by her gentle shushing and I let her in with it. The toy isn't very invasive and the moment the vibrations course through the walls, I shudder in delight.
Her excited groan thrills me. "Use those fingers to take care of yourself. Get creative. Show me what feels good. I'll hold this here so it doesn't pop out." Her voice is husky and it rattles through me in a provocative way much like the object she holds into my ass.
I close my eyes and let my fingers explore. Rubbing and pinching and pulling—anything to find relief. I push one, two, three fingers into myself. The fullness of the toy in my ass coupled with my fingers in my pussy dizzies me. With my other hand, I massage uneven circles against my clit while I fuck myself with my other hand.
"That's it, whore. Remember what you're here for. Pleasure. Fucking pleasure. I promised I'd take what I wanted, but I also promised I'd give you more than you've ever known existed."
My heart thumps erratically and I fear it might stop at any moment. Without warning, an obliterating orgasm slices through me so viciously that I think I might pass out. I shudder with the intensity of a woman during an exorcism and no longer know the world around me. All I am able to sense is her—her scent and presence. I'm blissed out on this fucked up sex game and I don't even care. This whole morning was worth this one moment of crazed, insane pleasure.
Her chair squeaks as she sits down. Gently, she tugs my fingers from inside my body and removes the vibrator from my ass.
"Come here, toy." I'm so weak, but with her help she assists me in sliding off the desk. She pulls me into her lap and strokes my hair. "Training wasn't so hard today, now was it?"
I'm too limp to even form a reply. Too confused to even attempt to bite back with a snippy remark. I bury my face against her chest and attempt to regain control over my breathing. But with her heady scent intoxicating me, I only find myself on the verge of hyperventilating.
"Shhh," she says soothingly, crushing a little part of my soul with her kindness. "I have you now."
I hope she does, because I'm more lost now than I was a week and a half ago when I was spaced out on skag.
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